Bambou Testimonials

THU SIEV E – BY AUDREY GUILBAUD

A boy whose zest for life and resilience surpass those of anyone else I have ever had the good fortune to meet. From the moment I arrived, everyone was already praising this young man who, despite the trials he had endured, always had a smile on his face. After a few weeks here, I had the opportunity to spend a night at his home, and the reality of his situation made a deep impression on me. He had almost nothing. His family remains, to this day, one of the poorest I have ever met. He lost his father several years ago, and his mother is doing her best to take care of her three children on her own. They had a roof over their heads until another charity stopped supporting them. Since then, they have been living under three pieces of corrugated iron. Before starting his higher education, Siev E worked odd jobs until late at night.

I am sincerely proud that such a gem has joined Enfants du Mékong. Not a day goes by without him showing his motivation to participate or help others. Such energy is rare, and I am amazed every time I see him.

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SOPHON – BY GODELIEVE RUSSEL

So many memorable encounters over the past two years! So I chose a class photo of some extraordinary sponsored children who now make their way to school every day.  (photo taken by gregmophoto) and a teacher: Sophon, who has been supporting children with disabilities for nearly ten years. She has a deep desire to help them progress and find their place at school, in their families and in their villages. Curious and committed, Sophon touched me in particular… Perhaps also because we share the same profession!

KRISADA – BY JUSTINE GUILBAUD

I met Krisada during a long trip to Tak Province to visit the homes of future sponsored children. However, when we arrived in the village, I was led to a field littered with debris.

An orphan belonging to the Karen ethnic minority, Krisada has no one but his sister, who is married and lives in Chiang Mai. His parents are deceased, his mother from heart disease and his father from an allergy. In accordance with Karen animist beliefs, the family home was burned down to help the deceased on their spiritual journey. Krisada therefore sleeps in the school dormitory and during the holidays he is taken in by the monks at a temple.

For me, Krisada represents resilience at such a young age. Every time we meet, I can see that he is happy that I recognise him, and we try to communicate despite the language barrier.

You can support children like Krisada today: sponsor a child

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SUMMER CAMP 2025 IN ORMOC, A SUMMER OF FRIENDLINESS

Laughter and team spirit were in abundance in the family atmosphere of Children of the Mekong, where the challenge was to prepare games and activities for the children in the various programmes. It was an afternoon full of smiles and camaraderie with the children, with various games designed to promote team spirit!

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GEE ANN AND ROWEN-JUN – BY MARIE-MAY PAUGET

Gee Ann (the girl):

She is beautiful, gentle, and dances like a queen. That was my first impression of her. She is lost, crushed by remorse and responsibility, but she hides it like a queen, and dreams of becoming a psychologist because she wants others to suffer less than she has. That’s my opinion of her after opening Pandora’s box. Filipinos are full of contradictions and great resilience.

Of all the stories they were willing to tell me, it was always abandonment that hurt them the most. Beyond material means, it is a sense of purpose in their lives that they lack. Adults unload the weight that has afflicted them since childhood onto the shoulders of their children, who repeat the pattern endlessly. History is written backwards. Some decide to survive with this history, others decide to rewrite it. Those are the resilient ones. Gee Ann is one of them.

Rowen-Jun (the boy):

Our relationship got off to a bad start. My inherent anger constantly clashed with what I perceived as his disdain or nonchalance. His powerlessness constantly clashed with the dreams he had created for himself. It must be said that the situation was not normal. I have met more lost young people, living from day to day, than ambitious, determined young achievers. I think the difference is passion.

Every day, Rowen-Jun watches his family destroy themselves with drugs. He sleeps outside. He suffers the arbitrary decisions of an irresponsible government. He feeds off the generosity of others. He gets robbed by his brother. But he never leaves the battered case of his trumpet. He dreams of becoming a musician. He learns music theory from the old men in the orchestra. He will attend a prestigious music school in one of the world’s largest megacities. He will leave his hellish life behind and change his family’s history. And now I understand, I have faith in him. And I hope he understands that I had faith in him.

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RONA – BY VIANNEY D’ABOVILLE

‘My mum is the best mum in the world! If only she hadn’t left us… Her absence, and that of my little brother who died at the age of three, has left a hole in our family.’ These are the words Rona wrote in her first letter to her sponsor, which I discovered while helping her translate it. The words of a child who, at the age of 12, found herself carrying the weight of her family in addition to the burden of sadness. Her letter is beautiful. Punctuated with drawings, she recounts how she found herself assigned the role of eldest child, as her older brother, overwhelmed by grief, became listless, lacking in energy and motivation. When she comes home from school, she plays teacher with her three little sisters and helps them with their homework by candlelight, as there is no electricity in their home. The words she writes move me deeply. Paper allows us to see beyond the wall that Filipinos put up on their faces, that permanent smile that seeks to hide all suffering. This family lives on a small fishing island, Molocaboc, and from the very beginning, I fell in love with them.

We hear and see so many stories of scandalous fathers. They drink, they are violent, they leave, they don’t take care of their children. Here, it is the mothers who carry the load. In this family, it is quite the opposite. The father is all the more touching because he stands in stark contrast to other men in his situation. Despite the difficulties of their situation, affection is never forgotten, and it shows. The father comes with his three other daughters to attend the programme meeting with Rona, and the four of them stick close to him, smiling broadly. A koala dad with the energy of a wolf: to provide for his children, he spends a dozen hours a day in the sea. He has no boat, so he fishes for shellfish and sometimes a few fish with a harpoon. Not wanting to leave his daughters alone at home at night, he gives up this time, which is actually more favourable for fishing. It is an exhausting daily routine, which brings him an income of less than €3 per day. During the summer, there is no water on the island, so it has to be bought from the mainland, along with rice and any food other than seafood. His entire income therefore goes on rice, which costs €1 per kilo, and water, at 30 pence per 20-litre container. With a smile.

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One of the things I am most proud of in my work is having found this family last October, by pushing to visit more and more families on this small island. Sponsorship is a source of hope, a small light that has just been lit and that she intends to keep burning. In 10 years, I know that little Rona will be a schoolteacher, and her father will attend her graduation ceremony with tears of pride in his eyes.